


The Deal a Demon Makes

by ColetheWolf



Series: Smutty Drabbles [21]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Breeding, Derek Hale Has a Big Dick, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slutty!stiles, Voyeurism, bulged stomach, demon!Derek, desperate!Stiles, filled to the brim, stiles makes a deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 09:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17078135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf
Summary: During some post-Thanksgiving holiday shopping, Stiles takes a shortcut through a dark alleyway and ends up striking a deal with a hot and horned up stranger.





	The Deal a Demon Makes

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally written for my drabble blog. But Tumblr censored it, so unfortunately there won't really be gifs to accompany these fics anymore. I'm still going to write things though. Hopefully, you enjoy.

Stiles definitely had some serious regrets about being the one to so valiantly volunteer to take on all of the holiday shopping, whilst his father stayed busy working a graveyard shift down at the Beacon Hills Police Department. Usually, Stiles’ father did all the shopping. That was his thing. But this year, Stiles wanted to tackle an early New Years resolution of responsibility….and boy, it came back to bite him in the ass.

The Black Friday holiday rush was definitely _not_ some sort of funny midnight joke. Holiday shopper survivors didn’t exaggerate when they said that people actually turned themselves into demons for a good deal —even for seemingly pointless holiday presents like a 10-pack of shampoo bottles, or electric can-openers, or backpacks. It was a living, breathing, screaming nightmare.

Stiles was lucky enough to make it out of the store in one piece, with only a few scrapes and bruises to show for it. He hurriedly rushed through the crowded sidewalk traffic, tossing out near-meaningless apologies whenever he accidentally bumped into somebody. All he really wanted to do was get back to his car and take a breather, not having to worry about some crazed fellow shopper stalking him down to take his purchased goodies.

The downtown district of Beacon Hills had been so crowded that Stiles ended up having to park about six blocks away from the store that he had planned to doing the shopping at. And whilst the walk hadn’t seemed so brutal the first time around, the walk back was doing its best to kill—Stiles was more than certain. And after surviving the large crowds of vicious people, getting run into by no fewer than five different baby strollers, and nearly maced by an old lady, Stiles was not about to let a victory walk do him in.

Stiles dove into one of the alleyways that broke up the towering wall of back-to-back department stores and restaurants. The sidewalks were almost as hectic as the inside of some of the stores, so Stiles was perplexed as to why he was the only one smart enough to take a shortcut and hop over to another—less crowded—street, in an effort to get back to where he parked.

The alleyway was a little bit creepy, most because it was night. But it was an alleyway….they weren’t supposed to be cozy. They were supposed to be creepy. Plus, Stiles couldn’t really complain on account of the fact that the alley was helping him get to his car faster. But nonetheless, Stiles couldn’t shake the fact that he had basically stepped into a completely different dimension.

The temperature of the alley was colder than the already super-cold November night, but that was because there wasn’t anybody around anymore. There wasn’t any crowded body heat to uncomfortably smolder in. The smells of the alleyway were also surprisingly more foul than the stench of hundreds and hundreds of sweaty people packed together into a department store, which was a smell Stiles figured he wouldn’t ever be able to forget.

But regardless of the coldness and the smell, Stiles was just happy to get away from the overwhelming noise. He could finally hear himself think again. The only sounded that Stiles could actually hear from outside of the darkened alley was the faint blast of Christmas music and the stinging chirp of donation bucket bell-ringers.

Peace on Earth, at last…..

Stiles made it to the midpoint of crossing through the alleyway, utterly lost to his own thoughts, until those thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a stranger calling out to him. A raspy voice caught Stiles’ attention, momentarily frightening him, and causing him to accidentally drop a few of the large shopping bags that he had been carrying around from store-to-store. But as the fell down to the watery alleyway ground, Stiles breathed in a moment of relief to allow the hinges of his fingers to take back good circulation.

“Hey, can you help me out?” The raspy voice questioned.

Stiles looked around to find the owner of the voice. At first, he couldn’t figure out where the voice was coming from because it was dark and the voice had bounced around the surrounding cement walls, making it seem as though the person speaking was calling out from somewhere else. But eventually, Stiles was able to locate the mysterious owner to the disembodied voice—much to his outraged dismay.

“Oh— _god_.” Stiles mumbled, utterly shocked at what he saw.

A couple feet away from where Stiles stood, there was some grimy-looking stack of naked muscle—casually sitting down atop the cement steps of a back entrance to one of the main street storefronts, underneath a dim, flickering fluorescent light—nonchalantly jerking himself off. Once more, the man seemed totally unfazed by the brutal cold weather and the look of confused shock on Stiles’ face.

Stiles’ head whipped around from side-to-side as he desperately looked around for somebody to explain the situation to him and confirm to him that he was, in fact, _not_ hallucinating or dreaming. There really was a man sitting down on a couple of steps, completely naked, stroking himself under the moonlight. Sure, it was _totally_ normal…totally _not_ random…totally _not_ even more proof that Black Friday really was some sort of day of the devil.

“Did you get everything on your shopping list?” The man asked, refusing to stop with the slow strokes of his own dick.

Stiles was baffled. He stared down to the stranger’s dick in disoriented dazzle, unable to pry his eyes away from the thickness and girth and the gentle gleam of precum that sparkled under the bright moonlight. It was just so….surprising. It had taken Stiles by genuine surprise. No, he hadn’t elected to cut through the alleyway with the intentions of bumping into some lewd man from the shadows.

“Uh, what was that?” Stiles questioned back, unwittingly licking his lips as he shifted his gaze away from the man’s sharp face, ruggedly jacked body, and tree-stump thick dick. “I was—uh, somewhere else for a moment there.”

“I said: ‘did you get everything on your shopping list’?” The man repeatedly, adding what seemed to be more warmth and charm to the rasp of his voice.

“Actually, I got pretty much everything that was on the list my father gave me.” Stiles explained. “I just couldn’t find this one thing I wanted to get for him—and _oh my god_ , why am I even telling you any of this?!”

The man looked up at Stiles from under the shadows of his own lashes, seductively illuminated by the dim light above. He continued to stroke his cock—fearlessly, slow, and pleasurable. Even better, he liked the way that the little holiday shopper presented before him was unable to advert his eyes. The man could see the boy struggle and uncomfortably shift around.

“What—?” The stranger asked. “Have you never seen a cock before?”

“Not in an alleyway before…” Stiles muttered, scratching anxiously at the back of his head. “Listen, I need to leave. I have places to be. I still need to figure out what else I’m supposed to get for my dad.”

“How about…I make a _deal_ with you.” The stranger propositioned. “If you help me out, I’ll help you out.”

Stiles squinted down into the man’s dark eyes, inquisitively. “What do you mean? How can you possibly help me? The store was sold out of the one thing that my father’s been drooling over for the past year.”

“Yeah, yeah— _I know_.” The man argued away. “The fifty-eight piece drill-buzzer deluxe in stainless steel.”

“How the fuck did you—”

“I have my ways.” The man asserted coldly, keeping up the languid strokes of his hard cock. “Now, what do you think about the deal I made you? I always make good on my promises…and you just have to give me a little something in return.”

There was something undeniably abnormal about the man. Stiles, however, couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was like there was some kind of unspeakable dark force, a charmingly dangerous magnetism that tugged at Stiles’ body—drawing him closer to the stranger, closer into the field of temptation, and closer to whatever deal had gotten pushed in his direction.

“I’m not sure about this.” Stiles said, continuously looking directions of the alleyway to see if anybody else had opted to take their own shortcut.

“Then be on your way.” The man flicked his eyes towards the exit of the alleyway. “I’ll find somebody else to help with their holiday problems, just out of the kindness of my heart.”

“ _No—!_ ” Stiles interrupted frantically, biting his tongue in surprise at his own eagerness. “I’ll make the deal…just—what exactly do you want me to do? You haven’t exactly been clear on that.”

The man laughed, wagging around the hefty weight of his leaking cock. “I think I’ve been clear enough.”

Stiles took a deep breath, taking a moment to gaze up into the serenity of the night sky. It was so delicate — innocently looking down upon him, always there to blanket him in safety and strength. But now….oh, now he was going to force the heavens above to look down upon perverted and lustfully lewd acts? And with a complete and total stranger?

Questions presented themselves. Was Stiles really going to let some random stranger clasp and tug at his body? Was Stiles going to touch the stranger — wrap his hands around where the stranger was hard and leaking? Was Stiles actually going to stain the alleyway with whatever unforgivable noises and juices he’d be unable to keep to himself?

No, he shouldn’t…and yet, Stiles felt no sense of hesitation. He dropped the remainder of the shopping bags that he hadn’t first dropped after being spooked by the shadowed alley-man. As he stepped closer to where the stranger remained on the cement steps, Stiles felt his muscles momentarily tense up with nerves—uncertain as to what he was truly getting himself into. But the gleaming smile of the stranger’s white teeth entranced him back into motivated courageousness.

Stiles positioned himself in-between the stranger’s open thighs, lustfully enthralled by the muscular hairiness of the man’s tantalizing body. He carefully lowered himself down to his knees until they were pressed down against the rugged asphalt of the alleyway. The stagnant puddles of rainwater immediately started to soak into the baggy denim of Stiles’ jeans, but he barely reacted to the coldness. He was already too far gone—unable to look away from the stranger’s massive, surging cock.

“Wrap your hands around it.” The man encouraged, shifting his hips and settling his hands behind his head. “You can start things off slow, I don’t mind.”

Stiles tentatively reached out with his hands, softly clasping both of them around the stranger’s substantial girth—only to immediately pull back both of his hands in surprise. It was hot…in the literal sense, right down to the touch. It was like running your hands alongside the exterior of a car, after letting the car sit around in the violence of the summer sun for a handful of hours. It burned…kind of hurt…but the heat was somehow addictive. Stiles felt so cold and he wanted to feel more of that warmth.

“It’s—hot.” Stiles noted. “—like embers.”

“I run hot.” The man confirmed smugly, nudging his hips upward to garner Stiles’ attention for the second time. “Now get back to what you were getting ready to do.”

Stiles wrapped his hands around the stranger’s cock again, this time allowing himself time to comfortably settle into the feeling of handling such an odd display of impossible, supernatural heat. Stiles could feel the palms of his hands tickle and become feverish, but refused to let that coerce him into backing down from the deal. Instead, he fought through the hesitation and started to move his hands.

The handjob started slow and stayed that way, at the request of the shadowed stranger. Stiles languidly moved his hands up and down, actively keeping both of his hands engaged around the stranger’s length. And despite doublefisting what he could fit into his hands, there was still a lot of the stranger’s shaft left exposed and out of capable grasp. If the man wanted the entire length of his cock jerked off, he’d need an extra set of hands to help out.

Nonetheless, Stiles didn’t complain. He found something engaging about tackling such an immoral challenge in the darkened alley as stranger passed by —ignorant to the inappropriate exploits that were carried out. And as the stranger occasionally commented on the handjob with smug applause or corrective critique, Stiles listened carefully to adapt to the ever-changing desire of the beast above. 

The repeated movement proved hypnotic to Stiles. He found himself practically entranced at the sight of his own hands working themselves around a monstrous cock. The heat of the cock, the way the foreskin stretched with each careful tug, the pulsing veins of the shaft that pulsed explicitly under his palm…everything was so mesmerizing. But Stiles found himself especially caught up with watching precum glint at the leaking slit of the stranger’s cockhead.

As he watched, unknowingly lapping at the chapped bottom lip of his own mouth in anticipation, Stiles could have sworn he watched steam flutter away from the small drop of liquid. It was a hallucination, obviously…at least, that’s how Stiles’ mind attempted to rationalize and explain the abnormal display. Or maybe it wasn’t abnormal. Maybe it was just body heat reacting with the cold air.

Stiles thumbed across the precum that had pearled up at the stranger’s cock, feeling an unmistakable sting of heat pierce the skin of his thumb. It really _was_ boiling hot—more than hot enough to produce steam. And yet, what should have been a feeling of genuine surprise inside of Stiles’ brain was immediately replaced with hungry desperation. The stranger ran hot…yeah, yeah…hotter than humanly possible….but what did he taste like?

Without thinking, Stiles popped the stickiness of his thumb into his mouth. He groaned out in arousal, closing his eyes to savor the sharpness of such a brutal sweetness. He could feel the heat of the liquid seep into the blood and course through his body, warming him from the inside out. If addiction was a flavor, Stiles had found it. Or better yet, it had found _him_.

Stiles surged forward, taking the head of the stranger’s cock into his mouth. He didn’t take the length down his throat, but rather, elected to suckle passionately at the flow of precum that drooled onto the expectant spread of his tongue. He couldn’t get enough of the stranger’s taste. It was sweet, mixed with the offensive musk of man. He wanted more. His body desired more.

“I didn’t say you could put your mouth on me yet.” The stranger reprimanded, tugging at the softness of the boy’s hair. “If this is how you respond to the taste of precum, you won’t be able handle what I plan to finish our deal with.”

“ _Please_ —I need more.” Stiles begged, staring up into the dark shadows of the stranger’s eyes. “I’ll make this feel good. If you cum, it’s okay — I’ll let you go again. You can take me again. We can make more deals. I just need more.”

“So…. _breakable_.” The stranger commented calmly. He his hand down the side of Stiles’ noble face, swirling the pads of his fingertips in zigzags along the beauty marks on the boy’s pale skin. “Go ahead—feed your new addiction.”

Stiles didn’t wait for the stranger to change his mind. He dove right back down onto the man’s hefty cock, this time take actual length into the warmth of his mouth. He was voracious. Though, unable to take all of the stranger’s length into his throat, Stiles made sure to take as much as he could manage—which was at least eight inches by his own estimate. And for what he was able to take down his throat, the stranger didn’t seem disappointed.

The feeling of the stranger’s cock sliding down Stiles’ throat was unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life. He had given men blowjobs before —some rougher, some softer—but the stranger was in a league of his own. It felt weird, but not bad…just different. It wasn’t explainable. Stiles likened the feeling to what it might feel like to get a white-hot rod of iron speared down your throat….in a completely painless, inescapably erotic kind of way.

Stiles slurped and gagged, keeping up an acceptable rhythm to the movement of his head and the strokes of his fist. He continued to fist the stranger’s cock in one of his hands, figuring that it would bring upon an orgasm quicker. That’s honestly all that Stiles wanted. That was the only thing on Stiles’ mind. It’s what he desired more than anything else in the world — in that moment. He wanted the stranger to cum down his throat. He wanted to feel that boiling warmth inside…deeper than what he could only get with a simple blowjob.

“Come on, rest your throat for me.” The stranger instructed, tugging once again at Stiles’ hair. “We need to finalize this deal of ours, don’t we?”

Stiles reluctantly stopped sucking the stranger’s cock. He looked up to the stranger with a grand expression of dismayed annoyance, mixed with an obvious pout. The boy’s face was flushed and sweaty was exhaustion. His button nose was equally as red, but from the cold air of the night. Meanwhile, Stiles’ lips were puffy and wet—slicked beautifully with saliva and precum and eagerness to get back to work.

“Why can’t _this_ be how we finalize our deal?” Stiles questioned seriously, leaning forward to take the stranger back into his mouth.

“Because — that’s not how this works.” The stranger asserted, pushing Stiles away from his cock again. “But don’t be dismayed. Your mouth has fulfilled it’s duty.”

Stiles’ face stuck up with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s give your knees a break from cutting into the asphalt.” The stranger said. “Now, undress yourself from the waist down and come sit here—I want you to ride the slick you’ve left on my cock.”

Stiles stood up from where he had been knelt down on the jagged ground, wobbling slightly at the sudden circulation that proceeded to run through his extended legs. At the stranger’s direction, Stiles hurriedly undid his pants and shuffled out of them, carelessly setting them down onto the wet ground to soak, before doing the same with his boxers.

The stranger slapped teasingly at his spread thighs, crudely depicting where Stiles was supposed to take his obedient seat. Stiles loyally followed the directions. He straddled the grimy stranger — making it so that their positioning allowed the both of them to face one another. But before taking a full seat, Stiles allowed himself to momentarily hover, feeling the inferno heat of the stranger’s leaking cockhead casually prod against his hole.

Stiles eased himself down onto the spit-slicked length with greed. The paranormal heat of the stranger’s cock felt even more concentrated in this way. As more and more of the troublesome length stretched open Stiles’ tight hole, it burned away any thoughts, questions, and hesitance that had briefly clouded Stiles’ mind. The only thing that Stiles could think about was riding the cock that filled him so extensively. 

The speed and rhythm of the ride was unapologetically quick and rushed. Stiles didn’t care and it really didn’t seem to bother the shadowed stranger either. The aggressive sounds of their bodies slapping against each other bounced around the walls of the alley and most likely echoed out into the populated city streets, but Stiles didn’t care. His brain was far too clouded to even think about that.

As Stiles bounced around in the lap of the stranger, the two found each other’s lips in a gluttonous attempt to find even more ways to stimulate themselves. Stiles moaned and groaned and whimpered and plead filthy nothings into the stranger’s mouth, licking inside of the man’s heat—gnashing their teeth together, biting at one another’s lips, and fueling their continued hookup with an extra garnish of passion.

Abruptly, a thunderbolt of pleasure rocked Stiles’ exhausted body from the inside. He screamed out hysterically, feeling the surge of sweltering liquid erupt into his body. As he babbled out breathless cries, Stiles splayed one of his own hands across his stomach, crying out in orgasmic disbelief as he felt the distended overflow of cum impregnate deep inside of his body. He could feel the unyielding throbbing pulsations of the stranger’s immeasurable length through the slosh of his cum-filled stomach.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” The stranger chuckled, snapping his fingers.

There was a sudden flash of bright light and smoke and then the stranger was gone — as if erased from existence. Stiles found himself completely dressed and all alone in the middle of the empty alleyway, shivering uncontrollably from post-orgasmic anguish and still incredibly bloated —filled to the brim with the cum from some random man he had just fucked in the alley.

In his hand, there was a simple black shopping bag with sparkling tissue paper. Stiles held up the bag to see what was inside, surprised to find that it was the exact gift he had been unable to successfully purchase for his father during the Black Friday rush in the stores. Stiles reached down to the straps of the shopping bag and lifted up the gift-tag to see if there was a name available…and much to Stiles’ surprise, the gift-tag read:

_“Pleasure doing business with you, Stiles.”_

- _Derek_ , your local _Deal-Demon_.

Stiles’ body seized and he involuntarily clutched at the handles of the shopping bad, feeling his own hardened cock spew out into the crotch of his dirty jeans. As he stood there in the middle of the alleyway, riding out his own orgasm, unable to do anything about it, he looked around in bewilderment—feeling the warm slosh of demon cum pour out of his overworked hole.


End file.
